


Mixed drinks, mixed feelings of elation

by brokenbeauty



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenbeauty/pseuds/brokenbeauty
Summary: Rin's a bartender. Haruka doesn't drink.The rest, as they say, is history.
Relationships: Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka
Comments: 9
Kudos: 204





	Mixed drinks, mixed feelings of elation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was originally meant for my fifth anniversary writing for Rin's birthday, but college and people fucked up and here we are a month and a half later. I thought I'd try writing something light for a change but I have no clue how to lmao. My humor sucks in real life so I really have no idea how it translates here jsjsjsjsjsj
> 
> ANYWAY. 
> 
> Enough of my personal diary entry, enjoyyyyy

_Just five hours more._

It’s petty consolation, considering it’s 10pm on a Saturday, New York time, and Rin could— _should—_ be out getting drunk and partying with friends instead of serving up booze to underage college students and praying they don’t puke or fall or act generally obnoxious. He’ll have to clean that up for sure, and if the cops turn up it’ll mean he’s effectively out of a job, and probably in jail into the bargain. And he kind of needs the money— _fuck_ America and the student loans and his generally destitute family back in Japan.

He sighs and beats down the overwhelming urge to ignore the large group that’s just beginning to settle itself down at the far end of the bar and currently beckoning for his attention. Slots the glass he’s polishing into place behind the bar and walks over to them, fixing the best not-irritated expression he can manage onto his face and trying not to think of the Human Physiology final that’s awaiting him next week. That he hasn’t studied for. _Five more hours, Rin, keep it professional._

“What can I get you guys?” This group, much to Rin’s relief, doesn’t look underage, and like they can hold their alcohol. As his eyes flit to one after another, committing their orders to memory, his gaze catches on the lone Japanese face in their midst—he doesn’t speak even as the others laugh and banter amongst themselves. Not like he’s lost, exactly, more like he’s thinking of other things and couldn’t care less. Yet something prompts Rin to ask him.

“And you? Not having anything?” The guy gives a minute shake of his head at the same time as one of his companions claps him on the shoulder and addresses Rin.

“Nothing doing, Haru. He’ll have a beer.”

“Sure thing,” Rin mutters, turning back to the bar and mixing up the drinks. _Haru._ Spring. It’s kind of a girly name for a boy—but he’s guessing no one wants to hear that from him.

After he’s served them, he moves off to attend to other customers. It’s Saturday, and the bar is pretty full with people looking to get a few drinks in their system before going out to dance. Rin lets his mind go to autopilot as he memorizes orders and dishes them out, fatigue aching in his bones like rheumatism. Yeah, that’s probably it. Maybe he’s getting arthritic—and senile into the bargain, because when he sneaks a glance at his phone _ten fucking years_ later, only an hour and a half has passed. Oh well. At least the bar’s emptying out as more people hit the dance floor.

Rin breathes a sigh of relief when he—fucking finally—gets a respite from the endless cycle of mixing, serving and polishing, wiping the bar down one last time before glancing over at the few people still remaining there. A middle-aged man nursing a whiskey on the rocks, a couple who’re practically eye-fucking over a single martini—and the Japanese kid from before—Haru—with his beer untouched in front of him. Rin hesitates—then, _ah fuck it,_ he walks over to him. Maybe it’s because he knows something of being alone in a strange country full of strange people. Or maybe it’s just that the curve of his chin where he rests it against his hand is stupidly alluring. But he walks over, waits until the shadow falling over the other man has his attention.

“Hey,” he says, proffers a smile. When he gets only a questioning look in response, he reminds himself that yes, it’s probably a bit creepy to have a random bartender talk to you out of nowhere. And what with the apathy radiating from the man at the bar, he’ll have to step up his game if he wants anything more than this out of the evening. So he continues. “Why aren’t you with your friends?”

The guy’s brow furrows when Rin addresses him, and for a moment Rin thinks he’s going to be told to fuck right off. But then, in slow, halting English, he replies. “I don’t dance.”

Rin hides a smile at the way the heavy Japanese accent folds over his words, _I dontu dansu,_ and it somehow reminds him of back home with beginner English courses strewn over the kotatsu, and himself forming his lips over the strange syllables, fighting the accent overshadowing the sounds—chasing the American dream was a lot more viable in the comfort of his room.   
  


“And you haven’t touched your drink either,” Rin continues in Japanese, “Not one for clubbing?”

A startled raise of the eyebrows like he’s just noticed Rin is Japanese, too, and another shake of the head later, he finally gets a response. “I don’t drink.”

Rin laughs. He can just imagine the other man’s irritated expression as his overenthusiastic classmates dragged him to the bar as a way of getting him to socialize, but he asks anyway. “So what’re you doing here?”  


_Bingo,_ he thinks as he spies a twitch of the eyebrow he interprets as annoyance before the deadpan answer. “They forced me to come. And Makoto isn’t here either.”

“Makoto?” Rin’s curious now. If this kind of guy can score himself a girlfriend, then how the hell is he himself still single? “Your girlfriend?”

He’s met with a surprised look before the other guy seems to realize something. “Makoto’s a guy. My friend.”

And unless Rin’s very wrong, it’s a tiny smile that’s tilting up the corner of the other’s mouth. Yeah, time to tease him a little and be every single bit of the hypocrite he is. “Pretty girly name for a guy, isn’t it? Yours too. Haru, isn’t it?”  
  
“Haruka,” the other says, reddening a little at it, and Rin is suddenly conscious of the sudden, heightened attractiveness the color seeping into his cheeks lends him. “But everyone calls me Haru. Except my parents, that is.”

“Hey, I’m Rin, and that’s pretty much the pinnacle of feminine names,” Rin laughs, struck suddenly by an urge to bait Haruka a little more. Just a little. “So you needn’t blush like that.”

“I’m not—I’m not blushing!”  
  


“You totally are,” Rin counters. _So fucking cute,_ he doesn’t say. Because it’s only now he’s noticing the flecks of blue in Haruka’s eyes, the delicate curve of his collarbone resting against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. And he has a fucking policy—never stick your dick in a paying goddamn customer, but somehow, _somehow_ he doesn’t want to fuck it up with this guy with the gaze like a calm ocean who reminds him of home. So he proceeds with caution. “What’re you studying, anyway?”  
  


“I’m here to swim.”

_A sports scholarship, huh._ And the nugget of information spirits Rin away; far, far away in a world and a dream that could’ve been his, the clear, sharp cold of pool water and the clean strokes, the burn in his arms cutting through it. Maybe Haruka sees something of the ruefulness that has crept into Rin’s gaze even as he tries to force it down, but in any case, he surprises him by continuing the conversation, yanking him back down to the sordidness of thumping bass and gyrating bodies.

“What do you do?” he asks Rin, a first for the conversation. And fuck all his shattered hopes and dreams, he’s counting that as a win.

“Well, I’m a bartender, evidently,” he gestures around himself, and when something pushes him, he adds, “But it’s a part time job. I’m studying medicine.”

“Oh.”

There’s a lull in the conversation then, Rin dispensing with a few other orders that’ve come up, Haruka toying with the condensation around his bottle. When Rin gets free again, though, he makes a beeline for the other man. Maybe it’s too direct, too much of a giveaway. But fuck that, there’s a strange draw, a heaviness in the air around them and Rin kind of wants to chase it back down, see where it’ll lead. And truth be told, with a guy like Haruka, Rin will probably have to get up and scream it in his face before he gets it—so direct is probably the best course of action either way.

“You still haven’t touched your drink,” he says by way of starting a conversation. Just that. No way in hell because he wants to see Haruka tipsy, that flush creeping up his high cheekbones and staining down his neck.

“I told you, I don’t drink.” It’s hard to tell whether Haruka’s unconcerned or annoyed or somewhere between the two, and something of it just seems to urge Rin on where he wouldn’t normally push. So he leans over the counter, pushes the other’s drink towards him.

“Come on, one drink won’t hurt. Chalk it up to the college experience, yeah?”

For a long moment, Haruka just looks at him, deadpan, and Rin is just thinking to slink away to the other side of the bar and mind his own business when he sighs. “Fine. One drink.”

Rin cheers internally. He doesn’t have a clue why just this little giving of ground from Haruka has him cheering in the first place; but hey, it’s here, and he’ll ride the wave. Any mulling over he might have done, in either case, is speedily arrested by his gaze wandering to Haruka’s full lips as they sip from the bottle, the slight undulation of his slender neck as he swallows—until he’s startled back to reality by Haruka coughing violently and grimacing.

“Hey—,” Instinctively, he places both hands on Haruka’s shoulders to steady him, snatches them away like he’s been burned the next second when the other man raises his head to look at him. But fuck, it’s no use now, he’s already all up in Haruka’s personal space, and from this vantage point he can see the tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes, more blue than black in this light—and that goddamned flush that’s just started to creep its way up his pale skin. Haruka, disconcerted, leans back. Maybe he’s noticed Rin staring at him like a creep, but that explanation doesn’t quite cut it, to Rin, for why the color in his cheeks remains long after the coughing fit has subsided.

“People drink that?” Haruka says after an interminable minute, and the tension in the air lifts a little.   
  


“Let’s just call it an acquired taste,” Rin half-laughs, half-grimaces at Haruka, wonders only after he’s said it at what prompts him to add, “I’ll get the taste out of your mouth. On the house.”

Haruka raises another eyebrow at him when he pulls a bottle of Dassai from under the counter and pours some into a glass. He eyes the alcohol but makes no move towards it.  
  
“What? It’s sake. Stop looking at it like it’ll kill you,” Rin says after a solid minute of the stalemate. “It’s Dassai. Really fruity and won’t get you too drunk. You’re not telling me you’ve never seen or had it before.”

Haruka shakes his head before taking a sip. “It’s not that.”

“Good. Because I’d hate to think I were taking your liquor virginity.” Rin only laughs when Haruka’s eyes flit to him in surprise before he tenses up and reddens. He goes to replace the bottle in its place under the counter—and Haruka is probably taking advantage of the lack of eye contact, because—

“Rin?”  
  


Rin tenses up—it’s the first time Haruka has said his name out loud and it’s perfectly natural, he tells himself, to be taken aback at it. But it’s a night of firsts, evidently, because what Haruka follows up with is completely out of left field, too.

“Why are you doing this?”

Rin straightens up to look at the other man in the long silence that follows the question, and finds him looking away, hands clenched tight around his glass like it’ll shatter if he lets it go. And it’s _so fucking adorable_ that he can’t resist.

“I wonder why,” he murmurs, leaning forward, and when Haruka turns to look at him but doesn’t flinch away, brushes a hand along the contour of his cheek. A little forward, maybe, but hey, he’s got the other interested and now is as good a time to shoot his shot as any. And Haruka, he can see, gets the message loud and clear from his sharp inhale at the contact right down to the flutter of his lashes as they look Rin over once, unabashedly.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, so matter-of-factly that Rin almost thinks he’s a regular, would think that if the color still high in his cheeks and the ever-so-slight trembling of his hands didn’t belie him. “What time does your shift end?”

Rin looks at his phone. “An hour and a half to go.”

“Okay.” Haruka busies himself with his drink again, like he’s just arranged to see his goddamn dentist or something, and Rin huffs out an almost disbelieving laugh at how the guy can blush just from proximity and yet make a— _not_ a dick appointment—seemingly without hesitation. It’s only when the next spate of customers seeking their go-home drinks hits Rin that he realizes time is crawling along—in a way it never did his entire conversation with Haruka. And he doesn’t sleep with his customers, he _doesn’t—_ so he keeps telling himself the entire time he’s mixing and serving, the entire fucking time he can feel Haruka’s eyes on him from his corner of the bar. There’s still time to go back, they can sit and have a nice chat or something in a wholesome, public place, he thinks as he clocks out and changes in the cramped locker room—and yet it all goes to shit the second he’s out and Haruka’s there, waiting for him.

“Hey,” Rin says, good sense tugging at him to ignore the way Haruka’s skin is even paler in the darkness, almost translucent, the way his collarbones seem to strain against his thin skin, and instead—oh, he doesn’t know. Walk him home or some shit.

“Hey,” Haruka replies, and Rin doesn’t know if it’s the autumn chill that’s in the air or something else altogether that accounts for that faint goddamned flush which is back again just to play with his sanity, but it’s making him think in ways dangerous for his already crumbling sense of principle.

“Well, here we are,” and god fuck him, Rin can’t stop his eyes from straying to Haruka’s lips even as he strives for something light to diffuse the tension heavy in the air. And god fuck _him,_ Haruka, who’s followed the line of Rin’s vision and bites that fucking lip of his like he’s trying—on fucking purpose—to do things to Rin. He lets it go after what seems to the other like an eternity, and Rin just watches it glisten under the harsh artificiality of the street lighting as the last of the fucks he has left to give disappear into thin air. And honestly, by the time Haruka opens his mouth to say something, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, it’s already too fucking late.

“What—,” Haruka begins, but Rin doesn’t let him finish, closing the distance between them in two long strides and slotting his mouth against the other’s. Haruka stiffens for a moment before Rin feels heat flood into his skin at the nape of his neck—and another beat of just that before he pulls away, leaving Haruka staring at him with eyes wide and breathing coming in irregular hitches.

“You were saying?” Rin can’t help but feel satisfied with himself, smirking only a little at the absolute deer-in-headlights expression Haruka has on right now. He almost looks pissed, like someone who doesn’t like being gotten the better of, and Rin kind of wants to see how far he can push it.

“You…” Haruka is glaring, sort of, at him now, and Rin raises his hands in a supplication that is only half-sincere. Not like he wants Haruka to get mad at him or anything, he’s not cockblocking himself thank you very much, only that it’s unsettling how goddamned adorable he finds the little furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jaw and—and before that train of thought can lead anywhere it’s being brought to a careening halt by the press of Haruka’s lips against his own, this time. And after that first jolt of surprise at the closing of the barely-there distance between them, it’s—something else altogether that courses through him as his frozen hands come to tangle in Haruka’s inky hair, surprisingly soft despite the chlorinated pool water it must be subject to. He’s dimly aware of distant whistling and catcalls—probably from Haruka’s friends staggering out of the club at half four in the goddamned morning, but it only makes him wrap his arms around the other’s waist and pull him closer when he tries to pull away, letting his tongue flick at the seam of his mouth.

“Rin, stop it. They’re staring.” Haruka’s trying for firm, he can tell, would even half believe it if his breathing wasn’t just the slightest bit strained, but it is, and as things stand, he can’t quite bring himself to stop just yet.

“Let them,” Rin kisses him again, runs his tongue more insistently along the closed line of his lips—it’s almost a surprise when Haruka relaxes under the touch, opening his mouth just a little. And Rin will be damned if he can’t take an invitation for what it’s worth. He licks into Haruka’s mouth, muffles a groan into the kiss at how _hot_ it is. Warm and wet with the burn of sake still lingering like an aftertaste and—and any other words he might have had to describe it are lost when his tongue brushes against the other’s. _Fuck,_ he thinks, _this is bad._ He needs to put a stop to this before they both end up fined, or worse, locked up for public indecency—because if it goes on like this, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“You’re right, though.” His voice shakes only a little when he pulls away to murmur the words against Haruka’s lips, and he’s quite proud of himself. “That isn’t a free show. Let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

And _oh fuck,_ Rin thinks, belatedly, when Haruka has nodded almost imperceptibly and they’re walking, hands in their pockets, in the direction of Rin’s apartment, _I’m really doing this._ Sleeping with a paying customer and all that.

* * *

Having an apartment to himself is one of the few luxuries Rin had afforded himself when he’d first moved here. And despite its cramped-ness and general depressing-ness and the two _fucking shitty_ jobs he has to hold in order to be able to pay rent, he doesn’t think he’s got too bad of a deal, all in all. Especially now that Haruka’s looking around it, at the anime posters he’s got tacked up on the walls in the living room and the remnants of the hurried dinner he’d whipped up and been too much in a rush to put away before he left for work, still laid out across the low table. Kind of wishes he’d thought to do a little spring cleaning earlier, but oh well. Hopefully the other will be too preoccupied to notice _._

  
“I like it.” Haruka says after a moment, and he must have noticed Rin visibly relaxing, because a wicked glint comes into his eye. “Even the miso soup.”

“Oh fuck off,” Rin feels his cheeks heat up as he snatches the bowls and chopsticks off the table and dumps them in the sink, grimacing at Haruka when he comes back into the living room, gesturing at him to sit—though the effect is pretty much lost on the little smile he can’t quite hide. Haruka’s an oddball by any standards, but Rin finds he doesn’t mind it, is actually pretty gratified to find that the other man does, in fact, know what a joke is. It’s quite possibly the most normal thing he’s said or done this entire evening, and while Rin wouldn’t say he’s quite _in love_ when he comes to sit next to Haruka where he’s on the mat under the table with his legs folded underneath him, it’s so fucking Japanese that Rin thinks he is, a little bit.   
  


“I’ve never seen a table like this here.” When Haruka speaks, it’s almost to himself, and Rin can’t suppress the warm rush of fondness that’s curiously similar to the one that washes over him when he thinks of home. And maybe that’s why Haruka’s here, why he’s himself here. He reminds him of home.

“You’re not likely to, either,” Rin replies, though he doesn’t really need to—but he figures Haruka will understand. “I bought it at a yard sale. This old Japanese couple sold everything before moving back home, and this was the only thing I could afford, so.”

“I like it,” Haruka repeats, and Rin laughs.

“Yeah. Something is better than nothing, I guess.” And before he can second—or even first-guess it, he makes good on the sudden lift in the mood to draw Haruka close, brushing their lips together once, twice, before he kisses him. Tentatively, like that one, hot, filthy moment they’d snatched back in front of the bar has somehow faded and smudged like letters in old, fountain-pen ink, obsolete. Because even as their lips move together, chaste, almost, Rin feels the old uncertainty of borders closing in around him. How far is far enough? How far is not?   
  


He mentally shakes himself. For all his weird ways, Haruka isn’t dumb. He knows exactly what it means to have followed Rin back to his apartment, and he isn’t pushing Rin away now. And fuck, his lips are so deliciously soft, the scent of his cucumber-and-essential-oil shampoo and something else—aloe, maybe—wafting off his skin is settling deep into the crevices of Rin’s breathing, and it’s getting harder and harder to care about the concept of boundaries altogether. Especially when Haruka opens his lips the tiniest bit—to breathe, to _breathe,_ Rin tells himself—but all the assumed self-control in the world can’t stop him from grazing his tongue along the ridge of Haruka’s parted lips, and swallowing the subsequent gasp into his open mouth.

Before Rin has the time to be either extremely triumphant or extremely horrified in retrospect, or even to weigh anything in balance, really, Haruka’s tongue rubs against his own and he forgets to be anything except suddenly, deliriously aroused. Like a demon, like some fucking green-eyed incubus that’s seized control of him, his hands snake up into Haruka’s hair as his tongue flicks over the roof of his mouth, along the ridge of his teeth. And when Haruka meets his tongue with his own again, Rin can’t help the low groan that escapes him, hands tightening painfully in Haruka’s hair, mouth disconnecting to nip harshly at his bottom lip before sucking on it, feeling it swell under his tongue and leave an iron tinge in his mouth as blood rushes into it. It’s only when Rin realizes that Haruka has frozen that he thinks to open his eyes, finding the other staring wide-eyed at him.

“I’m so—,” he begins, panic rising like bile in his throat. He didn’t want—hadn’t meant to—

“Fuck,” Haruka whispers, cutting him off midsentence. “Do that again.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do that. Again.” Haruka looks a dumbfounded Rin right in the eye, and it’s only then that Rin notices the heat in his eyes, the blue burning electric, overshadowing the black, and the way he looks absolutely beautiful right now with his lips swollen, his breathing coming erratic, and down south—yeah. It drags something out of him, something at once visceral and so, so potent that he’s hardly taken in a shuddering breath, gotten out a terse nod before he’s pushing Haruka down to lie flat on the mat, mouth finding his, licking the last lingering traces of sake out of it with a ravenousness that would’ve surprised him had he had the wherewithal to think clearly about anything right now. As is, his hands are moving with the unrestrained fluidity of some large animal that’s just now discovered the true extent of his own capabilities, his mouth cruel in the way it bites, viciously, almost, at the swell of Haruka’s lips, at the curve of his neck. Later he’ll swear it was the other’s moans, low, throaty and bitten-off like he couldn’t quite let them escape, even as Rin tugged at his lip with his teeth and sucked dark bruises into his neck, that drove him past the point of reason. But right now it’s just a heady mix of it all—the murky heat building between their bodies, the _more more more_ Rin wants with every time he sucks on Haruka’s tongue, tastes in his throat the reckless cocktail of adrenaline and the musk building on the other man’s skin.

And Haruka wants it too, Rin knows even before he traces a hand down his body, coming to palm over the bulge straining against the fabric of his jeans. Knows it in the desperate, aborted bucks of his hips every time Rin had run his tongue over the ridge of his ear, biting at the lobe. Knows it in the taut sensitivity of the nipple his fingers had barely grazed over on their way down, knows it in the way the contact had made him gasp and tense up. So all in all, he isn’t really surprised at Haruka’s keen when he finally rubs over him once, rough—just very, _very_ turned on. Turned on enough to watch Haruka’s face with a hungry sort of anticipation as he does it again to elicit a full-body shudder, with the other bucking his hips up into the touch.

“Like that?” Rin whispers, hand finding a steady rhythm as it works Haruka over, and he just drags him closer in answer, close enough so their bodies are flush, and pulls Rin’s hand away to grind up against Rin’s own throbbing erection, forcing a low hiss past his lips.

“Fuck, Haru…” Rin can’t stop his hips from bucking down against Haruka’s, and the friction is so fucking—so fucking good that he thinks he could just come like this without too many regrets. His mouth, as if on autopilot, finds the other man’s like he wants to devour it, running his tongue over his lips, hands fisting in his hair as they grind together and it’s so goddamned hot Rin can barely take it, wants to rub out his release right there against Haruka’s skin with his mouth open and hungry on his own. But trust Haruka to throw him a curveball when he’s least expecting it.

“Rin—,” Haruka disengages his mouth to suck in a gasp, nails digging into Rin’s back when he just moves down to sink his teeth into his neck, laving his tongue over the forming bruise. His eyelids flutter when the other looks up and Rin doesn’t think he’s seen a more beautiful sight in his fucking life. “I’m gonna—not like this.”

“Hm?” Rin presses his hips down just as he says it, and maybe he’s evil, maybe it’s just to make Haruka moan the way he does—but he can’t help himself.

“I _said,_ not like—­ _ah—_ not like this.” Haruka’s struggling to collect himself, but the white-hot focus of his gaze doesn’t waver from Rin’s face as he repeats himself.

“Like what, then?” Rin’s barely gotten the words out before Haruka’s hands are sliding down his body, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, then his pants. In one fluid motion he slides the shirt off his shoulders, and before Rin can even think to—stop him, do _something—_ he’s got his hand gripping him inside his boxers and all the other can do is let out a long, low groan. And it’s all-out payback, Rin knows, because Haruka doesn’t stop there—fucking wraps his legs around Rin’s waist and slowly, deliberately, guides Rin’s cock to rub against his clothed ass.

“Like this.”

And fuck, Rin’s pretty sure his brain’s short-circuited about three entire times by now, but _bedroom_ is all he gets out, thanks the stars for all his remining upper-body strength when he lifts Haruka up and carries him to bed, willing himself not to fall over from the surrealism of the whole situation. Those stars seem to be in his favor that night, thankfully enough, because he stumbles only a little bit when he throws Haruka down on the bed, if just from how fucking edible he looks all spread out against the whiteness of the sheets he’s eternally grateful for having changed the previous day. He gives himself a moment to take it in before pouncing, pinning Haruka against the bed as his hands make short work of his clothing, peeling it away layer by layer until the late moonlight streaming in through the window reflects off his naked skin.

“You’re so—,” he breathes, letting his hand trace along the curve of Haruka’s cheek, his neck, before kissing him like he can’t fucking help it, like he’s drowning and needs the touch like he needs air to breathe. “So fucking beautiful.”

Haruka flushes at that, the faint pink staining his skin deepening into a bruised rose running all the way down to his neck as he pushes Rin’s pants and underwear down his hips, Rin kicking them off so it’s just skin on skin, now. Pulls Rin in for another kiss as his hands tangle in Rin’s hair, freeing it of the hair tie so it cascades down around them like a curtain, blocking off everything but their fevered breathing and the hungry press of their hips into each other.

“…You, too.” Haruka whispers into Rin’s ear when they part for breath, bringing his hand to his mouth to suck on the other’s fingers, making his hips jerk. His fucking mouth—it’s so hot that Rin doesn’t process, for a whole moment, what he’s said. When he does, though, he feels the blood rush into his cheeks so fast it makes him dizzy, eyes widening and breath stuttering.

“Haru, you—,”

“Shut up.” Haruka runs his tongue over Rin’s fingers in a way that should be fucking illegal, but Rin isn’t given the time to even really think about what it could do elsewhere because then he’s fucking—spreading his legs, guiding them down _there_ , and all the blood in Rin’s body goes south so fast it makes his head spin _._ “Shut up and fuck me.”

And they sound so goddamned wrong, those words, coming from Haruka’s pretty mouth—so fucking wrong and so delicious that Rin can barely think to be gentle when he acts on them like a promise, sliding the first finger in to make Haruka gasp and tense up. He’s so tight inside, so hot where he’s clenching up around him that Rin has to bite down on his lip to suppress a moan. It’s all he can do to hold his hand still when he just wants to plunge deeper, make Haruka cry out in pleasure like he’s been holding back all this time.

“Relax, Haru.” His voice only shakes a little when he says it, and he prays Haruka doesn’t notice as he rubs soothing circles into his thigh with his other hand. “I can’t move like this.”

Haruka’s eyes are clenched shut and he’s biting his lip so hard it’s turning white, and Rin thinks it’s as good a time as any to take one of his nipples between his teeth and tug, flicking over it with his tongue as he takes his hand away from his thigh to take his cock in hand and work it over once, twice before thumbing over the head.

_“Ah—!”_ Haruka’s back arches as he lets out a surprised moan at the ministrations, eyes flying open to reveal pupils blown and hazy with lust as he relaxes into the contact despite himself. “What are you—what are you _doing—”_

“What was that?” Haruka’s loose enough for Rin to move his fingers now, and he takes full advantage of it, curling his finger to probe along Haruka’s walls until he finds the hardened nub he’s looking for, rubbing over it. “What did you say, Haru?”

“Oh fuck, fuck fuck _fuck_ —,” Haruka’s babbling now, arching up into Rin’s touch, and Rin uses the opportunity to add another finger, scissoring them to spread Haruka open, and he’s still so fucking tight around them that he wonders for a moment if he’ll even fit, and then groans at the thought of it sucking him in when he does. Haruka’s still moaning, and the desperate sounds only spur him on to move his fingers faster, the wet sounds filling the room up and driving something animalistic into his motions. He leans his full weight on one elbow and fucks him with three, then, rutting himself down into the bed for relief against his own need when Haruka bites down on his neck and sucks to keep his sounds in.

“Rin— _ahh fuck—_ no—,” Haruka sucks in a bitten-off keen when Rin spreads his fingers wide, as wide as they’ll go, hole clenching around him. “Not so wide—”  
  
Haruka’s still shuddering from it when he brings his hand up to his mouth to lick it over, getting it between them to close around Rin’s cock, beginning to jerk him off in erratic, aborted motions as he runs his tongue over the ridge over his ear before breathing hot into it. “Not just me, Rin—you feel good too—”  
  
Rin’s fingers stutter in their motion and he sees red. It’s all he can do to yank his fingers out of Haruka, cock twitching at his surprised moan at it, and grab the lube from the bedside drawer to slick himself up. Haruka’s watching him, eyes wide and unblinking, breathing labored even as Rin hisses from the coolness of the lube on his dick, and positions himself over the other.

“You’re ready.” Rin snarls, and feels Haruka’s cock twitch between them at his words. He ruts himself down, cock slick and catching against Haruka’s hole, and the contact makes the other man clench around nothing, hands coming up loop around Rin’s shoulders—but something about the impenetrability of his gaze makes Rin pause. Is he really doing this? Is it even a good fucking idea, is Haruka really—

“I’ve never…” Rin is pulled out of his self-doubt, extraordinaire, when Haruka speaks, so soft that Rin would’ve missed it if they hadn’t been up in each other’s personal space. There’s a long, heavy pause, then, and Rin is about to ask for clarification when Haruka looks away, mumbling. “So just. Be gentle, I guess.”

“…Yeah.” Rin’s mind is swirling with more thoughts than he can conceivably keep track of, but the main one is just how fucking _cute_ Haruka’s sudden shyness is, how he’s more sure now than he’s been this entire evening. As things stand, anyway, he lines himself up with Haruka’s entrance and pushes in till the head of his dick breaches him.

“ _Fuck!”_ Rin buries his face into Haruka’s shoulder, teeth finding skin at the how excruciatingly tight he is. It’s been awhile, and it’s physically painful to stop himself from thrusting it all in at once, from fucking ravaging him till he screams, but he holds back, sucking on the mark he’s made, counts to ten in his head before asking Haruka, whose chest is heaving underneath him. “Haru—can I?”

“Yeah, _yeah—_ ,” Haruka gasps out like a prayer, hips jerking, and Rin pulls himself up onto his knees to look down at him, how his throat, marked up in purpling bruises, turns taut when he pushes in, lips parting the tiniest bit. _Slowly,_ he reminds himself, clenching his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure as he inches his way inside until he’s buried to the hilt, letting out a long, shuddering breath when his hips meet Haruka’s ass. It’s so constrictive he feels like he can’t breathe, but also like he’d be completely fine with dying like this. He doesn’t know if it’s Haruka’s insides that’re pulsing around him or if it’s just his own dick, but it’s clouding up his reasoning so quick he’s sure he’s not going to be able to hold on for much longer.

“Fuck, please—Haru—,” Rin leans forward when he can’t take it anymore, mind blank and blood pounding in his ears. He puts his weight on his hands, pulls out just the tiniest bit and hisses at the delicious friction. “Can I move?”

Haruka just nods, teeth worrying at his lip, hands tightening around Rin’s shoulders as he makes the first, experimental thrust, both of them groaning at the feeling. Rin takes a deep breath, begins to make shallow thrusts, then, body shaking from the effort of holding himself back. Before he knows it, though, the steady rhythm he’s fighting to set gives way to him going in deeper, pulling back further, driving in harder—but Haruka doesn’t seem to mind, rocking back into Rin’s hips with every movement of his.

“Fuck, Haru.” Rin groans into the other’s ear, quickening his pace so that it’s just hinging on the far side of the _gentle_ that Haruka had asked of him. “You’re so fucking tight, just sucking me in, _fuck—”_

“ _More,_ please, goddammit—,” Haruka wraps his legs around Rin’s waist in response, heels digging in, nails scrabbling down his back as he pushes up into his thrusts. “Just fuck me, please—”

“You sure?” Rin can’t help it, those words go straight down between his legs and he’s already going faster, more vicious even as he asks Haruka, snapping his hips into him and watching the tears come glistening into his eyes, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth. “What— _ah—_ what about being gentle?”

“ _Fuck_ being gentle.”

And oh fuck that’s it. Something snaps inside of Rin at that and he pulls out of Haruka in one fluid motion. The other man barely has time to suck in a gasp before he flips him onto his stomach and enters him again, pressing him down into the bed as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in as hard as he can.

“ _Ahhhh—!”_ Haruka’s voice is close to a scream when he throws his head back, but Rin doesn’t let up, continuing the same, punishing pace, yanking the other up so he’s on his hands and knees, ass in the air, getting fucked like a bitch in heat.

“Is this it? This what you wanted when you saw me at the bar, Haru?” Rin leans down to murmur into Haruka’s ear, pistoning his hips into him in desperate opposition to the tone of his voice, fingers gripping his hair to yank his head back as he angles his hips to hit the spot he’d only teased with his fingers earlier. “Wanted me to be rough with you, fuck you till you scream?”

“Answer me,” he growls when Haruka just moans something unintelligible in response, and god, he didn’t even know he could—that he was capable of—well, something like _this_. It’s almost an out-of-body experience, the way his hand comes up to land a harsh smack on Haruka’s shapely ass when he doesn’t get anything coherent out of him, the knee jerk reaction of the other clenching up hard around him at the impact even without realizing what’s happened, crying out deliriously when he does.

“Yes, yes, yes— _oh god,”_ Haruka fists the sheets in his hands, hips jerking like he doesn’t know whether to rut himself down into the mattress, or up into Rin’s thrusts. He’s so hot inside, so fucking tight—and Rin leans down, pressing his hips deeper into Haruka until their bodies are flush and his dick is as deep in as it’ll go. His head feels hazy with desire, focused on single-mindedly chasing the release that’s building in the pit of his stomach like slow fire, and he pins Haruka down with the weight of his body, holding him impaled deep as he grinds his hips in circles. The other man writhes under him, their sweat sticking their skin together, and Rin knows in a minute that he’s as far gone as he himself is. “Fuck, Rin—wanted this, wanted you—”

“You fucking—you’ll be the death of me.” Rin snarls out, pulling himself back up and grabbing Haruka’s arm for leverage as he redoubles his thrusts, fucking into him fast and dirty. The lewd sounds of skin slapping skin fill up the room, heavy with the smell of sweat and sex. Another smack, on the other side this time, and Haruka’s knees shake like he won’t be able to hold himself up for much longer. Rin gets an arm around him, pulls him back and up so he’s supporting his weight with his chest pressed against the other’s back, uses the window of opportunity to sink his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder as he gets a hand around his cock, jerking him off sloppily. “Look at you, leaking so _fucking_ much just from a cock in your ass.”

“Rin— _don’t,_ I’ll—,” Haruka’s entire body arches at Rin’s words, the contact, and he just wants to make him even more desperate than he already is, make him cry, make him fucking scream—so he fucks up into him harder, increases the pace of his hand on his cock, all the while trying to will back the molten rush of his orgasm rising in his gut. “If you keep doing that—I’ll _come, I’ll come—!”_

The end of Haruka’s jumbled sentence, rising up into a scream, does _things_ to Rin—things that have him grit his teeth and tense his entire body to stave off his impending orgasm. He can’t summon up the faculties to be gentle when he turns Haruka’s head to look him in the eye, face wet and splotchy with tears, lips bitten and spit-slick, and the sight is just so fucking beautiful that he leans in for a sloppy kiss, mouths open and tongues frantic as he thrusts at the angle that makes his cock rub up against Haruka’s good spot on every thrust.

“Come for me, Haru,” he grits out, knows that Haruka is close, so close in the way he’s impossibly tight around him, body trembling every time the other fucks into him. Rin only needs to thumb over his cock a few times, dig his thumb into the slit and—

“ _I’m gonna—_ I’m—,” Haruka’s entire body shakes violently and he clamps down so tight Rin can’t move, cock jerking and spilling out what seems to Rin an impossible amount of hot, sticky white fluid all over his hand even as the last word seems punched out of him. “— _Coming!”_

“Ah—fuck, _fuck!”_ Rin’s hips stutter at almost the same time Haruka clenches tight around him, vision going white as he grinds his hips in deep one last time, pulsing hot into the other man. Every spurt seems squeezed out of him, so intense that it’s like a shockwave every time his hips jerk into Haruka, him biting at his shoulder to muffle his moans as they collapse, panting, onto the bed.

It takes a full minute for Rin to catch his breath and roll off the other man and onto his back beside him, breathing still a little uneven. The two of them lie in silence for a while as they come down from their highs before Haruka gets up, gathers his clothes and moves silently towards the bathroom.   
  


“Where’re you going?” Rin’s still dazed, feeling the beginnings of a pleasant post-coital drowsiness taking hold of him. He wants nothing more than to curl up next to Haruka and go to sleep, but that’s kind of difficult if there’s, well, _no_ Haruka. So he props himself up on an elbow and focuses on Haruka’s pale figure, which stops almost guiltily, like he’d much rather Rin have ignored him and gone to sleep.

“I’m—,” Haruka says slowly, without turning around, like he’s weighing his words to decide on the right ones to say, and Rin is suddenly gripped with a crippling sense of guilt as a thousand uncertainties flood him, reminding him that he’s quite possibly fucked up the best lay of his life, the what-ifs resisting any attempt of Rin’s to crush them. He should’ve been gentler. He should’ve listened. He should’ve—

“Don’t you want me to leave?”

“…What?” Rin really doesn’t get it for a moment, but when he’s certain he hasn’t heard wrong, he wants to laugh. Trust Haruka to come up with the stupidest possible reason to try and second-guess this like all of Rin’s headassery isn’t already enough. The relief buoying him, he flops down onto the bed, rolling his eyes at the other man. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?”

“Haru,” Rin flips himself over onto his elbows to take the other in, admire silently the way the planes and curves of his body seem to glimmer like an expressionist painting in the moonlight, and wonder how in hell he got so lucky. “Don’t go back to the dorm?”

Haruka just stares at him for a moment before nodding almost imperceptibly, an unspoken question in his gaze. It doesn’t require an answer in words from Rin, not really, but he gives one anyway, going up to Haruka and hugging him tight like he suddenly wants to, whispering in his ear.

“Home is so far away tonight.”   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments mean I'll kiss you.


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